


Two Mutant Open Sleigh

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Snow, Winter Wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: Erik gets up, not bothering to put on any clothes, and walks to the window. The air is cold against his naked skin and, once he steps off the rug onto the wooden floor, the planks are freezing under his bare feet. He throws back the curtains.It is a pristine world out there. It's snowed heavily in the night and looks like a Japanese woodblock of a winter landscape, monochrome, just a few touches of black and brown and a scattering of scarlet berries.





	Two Mutant Open Sleigh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pacole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacole/gifts).



Erik wakes before Charles. He always wakes before him. Charles goes to bed late, reads and grades papers once he gets there, and rises late. As soon as Erik opens his eyes the quality of light hits him. It bursts through the gap in the curtains, bright, smooth and milky. Erik gets up, not bothering to put on any clothes, and walks to the window. The air is cold against his naked skin and, once he steps off the rug onto the wooden floor, the planks are freezing under his bare feet. He throws back the curtains.

It is a pristine world out there. It's snowed heavily in the night and looks like a Japanese woodblock of a winter landscape, monochrome, just a few touches of black and brown and a scattering of scarlet berries.

mmm that's a nice view says a voice in his head.

Charles isn't referring to the snow. He's referring to Erik's ass and the long line of his back.

it's snowed, come see

Charles throws on his ratty old dressing gown - it's not ratty, it's comfortable \- transfers to his wheelchair and rolls over to the window.

Erik feels his delight as a silvery shimmer.

He settles himself on Charles' lap. Charles wraps strong arms round him.

"Let's go out in it right now, while it's still perfect and untouched."

Charles smile doesn't fade, but it stiffens a little.

"Erik, I can't, my wheelchair won't cope with snow."

Erik's guilt dulls the bright morning. They both know whose fault it is Charles can't run through the snow, laughing, red faced, bending to grab handfuls of snow and hurl them at Erik.

Charles reaches up a hand and tugs Erik's hair.

none of that, yes, it's your fault but it's also Moira's fault for shooting at a metallokinetic and my fault for getting up at exactly the wrong moment and the fault of the two fucking superpowers that decided to kill us after we'd saved them and that shit Shaw's fault for causing it all in the first place so shut the fuck up you twat

His mental voice is as sharp as the tug on Erik's hair.

Erik bends to kiss him because, although that won't shut him up - nothing shuts up a telepath - it will distract him. His lips are soft and plump. Erik's slides his tongue into Charles' mouth. He has shocking morning breath but so does Erik and he doesn't really care. Charles' pleasure flows though Erik like honey in cream.

He pulls away and is pleased to see Charles is pink cheeked and a touch glassy eyed.

"Besides, you can go out in the snow."

Charles looks at him like he's an idiot. Erik looks back like Charles is an even bigger idiot.

"What's your wheelchair made of, Xavier?"

"Oh. Oh!"

Charles smile is so dazzling Erik has to look away. They scrabble into layer after layer of clothing. Charles has a ridiculous shocking pink knitted hat with a searingly orange bobble on top.

I'm sorry, but you are in no position to criticise my fashion choices

"That's not a fashion choice, that's an unholy abomination."

Charles clouts him across the back of his legs.

Erik levitates Charles and his wheelchair down the broad staircase and out of the huge double doors. It's early and the sky is still tinged with the shell pink and soft gold of dawn. The snow sparkles in the sunlight and is mauve and blue in the shadows. It's still. It's quiet. The air is startlingly cold when they breath it in.

Erik focuses his power and reforms Charles' wheelchair, tucking the wheels neatly underneath, giving it runners and making himself a step to stand on at the back. He extends his hand in an elegant gesture and they glide across the smooth, white lawn, slowly at first, then picking up speed. There's something missing. Erik concentrates. Tiny bells jingle.

Charles twists round to look at him. There's such joy on his face Erik can hardly bear it.

"They're just bells," he says as dismissively as he can.

"Bah, humbug!" laughs Charles.

He squeals when Erik corners sharply.

that was not a squeal that was a manly exclamation of surprise

Erik laughs and ups the pace. The snow crunches under the runners. They sweep away from the house and off the manicured lawn. They soar up slopes and plunge down into valleys. Snow scatters behind them. Erik steers them across the frozen lake. The ice isn't nearly thick enough to take their weight but, of course, it doesn't have to; Erik's taking the strain. Not that it is a strain. He lets the sleigh touch the ice just enough to make a harsh, scraping sound, quite different from the quiet shush of the snow. Charles whoops and waves his arms around. Then they're across the lake and into deep snow and Erik banks the sleigh so Charles can drag his fingers through the crystals, making them fountain up. A fair amount hits Erik in the face.

They startle a flock of gulls, which take off with harsh cries of alarm, their wings as white as the snow. Erik heads for the woods. He has to concentrate, weaving the sleigh between the trees as fast as he can, egged on by Charles' shrieks of delight. They come out into a clearing and Erik brings them to a halt. The silence, apart from their breathing, is a heavy but not unpleasant weight. Boughs bend and creak under their burden. Sunlight streams through branches filigreed with ice. Berries are frozen rubies.

"Thank you," whispers Charles.

"You're welcome."

They sit in silence, dazzled by the glory of light and shade. Erik could stay here forever. Here, with Charles. He could, but he won't. Charles shifts slightly in his chair. The joy he's emanating becomes a little tattered around the edges and Erik hates himself and hates Charles just a fraction too and all he can think to do about it is to shove a handful of snow down the back of Charles' neck.

"You fucking bastard, Lehnsherr!"

Charles scoops up some snow but Erik dances out of shot. Charles can't move but Erik has to come close to get a hit in and, annoyingly, Charles' aim is better than his. They're pretty evenly matched. By the time they're done they're both soaked and Charles' nose is red and his cheeks are scarlet and he's shivering. His temperature regulation is not what it was.

"You're getting cold," says Erik, touching the pale nape of Charles' neck and tangling his fingers in the dark, wet, wisps of hair that have escaped from his pink hat.

He leans down and kisses him. His face is freezing but his mouth is hot. Charles reaches up. Erik anticipates his touch, but instead the little shit grabs a branch and hauls it down and half a ton off snow buries Erik. Charles gets a fair bit of it too, but howls with laughter anyway. Erik shakes himself off, removes a glove and shoves his frozen hand down Charles' front to pinch his nipple.

ah you dirty bastard

Charles drags Erik onto the wheelchair/sleigh, Erik's knees on either side of his thighs, and fumbles at his fly. His numb hands are useless. Erik unzips with his powers and Charles' engulfs his cock in that burning mouth. The contrast between the cold seeping into the rest of his body and the heat and suction on his cock is spectacular. Erik grips the back of the chair with one hand and pulls Charles' hat off with the other so he can work his fingers into hair that's black with melted snow. He throws his head back and stares at the white sky through white branches.

It starts to snow. The flakes look dark against the bright sky. They spiral down, silent and easy. Soundless. All he can hear is his own harsh breathing and the obscene, wet noises Charles makes around his cock. He closes his eyes. The invisible touch of snowflakes on his face. Charles' lips and tongue and throat working his cock.

charlescharlescharleserikcharleserikcharleserikerikerik

And he thrusts into Charles' mouth and he's breaking and Charles is breaking with him and they fall.

He comes to himself awkwardly hunched over Charles, half on and half off the chair. Charles has drooled some come down his chin. Erik licks it off. They look at each other.

"Fucking hell, I really am freezing and you're one heavy bastard."

Erik snorts. Charles grins. Xavier is definitely not the romantic in this relationship.

Erik glides them back to the house at a sedate pace. There are dozens of children on the lawn now, running around, screaming, rolling in the snow, having snowball fights and building snowmen. Because they're mutants one of the snowmen is levitating and some of the snowballs are bursting into flame. Charles greets them with enthusiasm and they cluster round the wheelchair/sleigh. Erik keeps his head down, nodding at the ones he recognises. They nod back, wary but not afraid. One of the younger children, a new student he thinks, stares and blenches and grabs her friend and points at him, urgently whispering. The friend rolls her eyes and says:

"He's not Magneto here, he's just Erik."

Just Erik guides the wheelchair, and it is a wheelchair again under his careful shaping, into the house. They raid the kitchen and whisk their booty upstairs. Erik runs the bath with his powers while they strip off their wet clothes. Charles allows Erik to pick him up and deposit him carefully in the steaming bathwater. He hates being carried so it's a rare privilege. Erik sits with Charles between his legs, his back to Erik's chest and they eat and drink and wash each other.

"Oh dear, I think we lost my hat somewhere,' mourns Charles.

"Oh dear, what a pity," Erik deadpans.

you shit you lost it on purpose

Then there's a lot of splashing and, my god, Charles has fantastic upper body strength and things get heated and not just because of the scalding hot water.

In a few days the snow has melted away and so has Erik.

The snow will fall again.


End file.
